


Pour Decisions

by Vicarious_Embarrassment



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Brief drunken dance-off with a sort-of-ghost, Dirty Jokes, Drinking, Drunk Shenanigans, F/M, Gen, Incredibly loosely based on a folklore thing, Mentions of Mc/Mason but that's about it, Supernatural ability that mimics effects of a spiked drink, blood mentions, coarse language, crackfic, probably could get away with a teen rating but I'll play it safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicarious_Embarrassment/pseuds/Vicarious_Embarrassment
Summary: Lauren doesn't get drunk often, mostly because she completely loses her filter. Worrying about Tina being kidnapped hadn't really occurred to her until now.Meanwhile, Unit Bravo considers the gift of both a tracking anklet and a curfew.(Short crackfic.)





	Pour Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to write a serious fic had my brain spinning its wheels... so have this instead! Not my canon!Lauren but close-ish.
> 
> *Brief mention of supernatural ability that imitates the effects of a spiked drink. I noted it in the tags but I didn't want someone stumbling on that without expecting it in an otherwise pretty light-hearted drabble thing.
> 
> I won't make any promises but feel free to shoot requests at my tumblr, linked in my profile. I am bad at the whole ideas thing.

It feels like it’s been years, but it’s been closer to two months – murder, vampires, kidnapping, and an endless amount of paperwork and report writing later, and Lauren has a _day off_.

She wants to cry. In relief, mostly, but part of it is also probably because of trauma. But she doesn’t want to think about that now.

Lauren may have turned down Tina once, but it’s about time she gets that rain check on a drink while Unit Bravo’s probably too busy moving in to be shadowing her. If she was doing the smart, safe thing she would stay inside like a good detective and wait to go out until she has Bravo to back her up – but there are some things she wants to confide to her friend that she really doesn’t want the team to hear.

So.

“Tina, I should’ve done this sooner,” the blonde is somehow holding a straight-face and appears tipsy at most, but inside she’s one wrong move away from toppling from the stool. “Who knew I needed so many orgasms?”

Her partner’s laugh is raucous and can be heard even over the buzz of the club in full swing on Friday night, “ **I** did, you’ve been so upti~ _ight_.”

Lauren nods, but aborts the motion when the room starts to spin. There’s no Chen here to read through her facade of sober-ness, but the bartender has somehow managed to keep track of her drinks and has cut her off.

Oh well, she’ll be more grateful in the morning.

“I am a _professional_ ,” her face is stoic enough to give Adam a run for his money before she dissolves into a fit of giggles, “I am _so_ not, I was **this** close to fucking Mason.”

Tina chokes on her drink, “Of course you did. The biggest asshole of the bunch!” She guffaws, “and don’t use past... past... don’t pretend like you still aren’t-” her pointer and thumb close together, “-still this close to it!”

“Your fingers are touching!”

Between the two of them, Lauren can’t be sure if they sound like a bunch of drunk women giggling cutely, or braying donkeys, but she’s stopped caring several drinks ago. They’re an hour’s drive out of Wayhaven, in a town with an actual shopping mall in it, and no one that will recognize them if they fall flat on their faces; even if they were able to get a good look in between the dim lighting and neon colours flashing over them.

She hasn’t been to a club since University.

Only this time, she’s not on the look out for someone to take home or be taken home by, because she might be flirting with danger but that doesn’t mean she’s going to take it home to meet mom and dad.

A hand falls on Tina’s shoulder, a pretty girl with wild hair and pale skin who smiles gently at the two of them.

“I don’t suppose either of you beautiful ladies would be interested in a dance?” She flutters thick white-blond lashes and Lauren feels a pull to say yes, but they really should be stumbling their way back to their motel room now. It’s dingy, but not the worst that could be bought for less than the cab fare to get back.

If the pretty woman had come by a little earlier, one of them would have probably said yes.

“We’re heading out soon,” the detective replies smoothly, slinging a companionable arm around dark-skinned shoulders, “And we’re together.” It’s a lie, but only a supernatural would be able to tell from the way Tina giggles – it sounds flirty, but is more just her trying to not crack up at the thought.

They dated for all of two days in high school, it had been awkward more than anything else.

“You sure? Sharing is a virtue.”

Lauren keeps the friendly smile on her face even as she wants to scowl, her own polite rebuttal interrupted by her sloshed fellow officer.

“We’re sure _miss_ , you’re pretty but no thanks.” The brunette stands up and Lauren’s forced to follow or fall down, the two teetering their way out of the packed club.

“Have a good night!” Lauren tries to call out to smooth things over, the woman’s frown only deepening. What a weirdo.

The flat concrete feels more like a water bed beneath their heels, propping each other up and ignoring onlookers as they make the short walk back.

“Doesn’t this just take you back?” Tina sighs, nearly face-planting as the tip of her heel knocks into a rock.

“Yeah, only usually we were sadder if we were going home together,” she can feel her expression softening, fond memories of nights out with Tina during school breaks.

“The hangover’s gonna be the same,” her friend groans low in her ear and instead of getting the usual sympathy, Lauren laughs at her.

“God, my face hurts from smiling,” the first attempt to poke her own cheek misses and shoots past her face, but the second attempt succeeds at prodding the sore muscles, “That’s _sad_. I will be happy if the rest of my career is spent dealing with people’s petty complaints.”

“Mr. Huckes is still complaining about his neighbour’s lawn.”

“It’s not even _that_ bad.”

“I know, right?”

They share another laugh, only for Lauren’s to cut short as a shiver rips its way down her spine. Dizzily, she surveys the emptying streets but sees nothing. Beside her Tina slumps further.

“Stupid barman, should’ve cut me off sooner,” it comes out more like ‘stipd burmin, shove cut moff sooner’ but being fluent in drunk is an important skill for an officer.

Tina nearly tips them both over face first into a mystery puddle as she pitches forward, Lauren shoving the two of them into a wall instead.

“Tina?” There’s panic easing through the buzz now. They were both good at keeping eyes on their drinks, how could – and they’d been sharing sips, so any minute now Lauren would be affected too. “Tina?!”

The woman’s eyes are glazed over, but pupils normal as she blinks up at her partner, “I – what were we talking about?”

“How interesting.”

Her head whips back, blue eyes taking in the creepy pale lady from earlier. Only now... now Lauren can faintly see the street _through_ her.

“What **are** you?” She aims for her stern authority voice but there’s a shake in it she can’t seem to quite control.

“Telling’s no fun, neither are you,” the woman sing-songs as she skips over, Lauren moving protectively in front of Tina, “Now, now, none of that. Humans have to be taught manners somehow.” The amused smile morphs into a hideous frown, dark lines accentuating the razor sharp whitened teeth that she flashes in a snarl, “You’ll get her back.”

Lauren hits the ground with a thump, brain swirling and taking precious seconds to reorient itself as Tina is hauled over a waif-thin shoulder, her body slowly sinking into the mystery woman’s less-than-corporeal form.

Lauren’s cheek presses painfully into bits of gravel while she slaps at her pockets – no these pants are the ones with the fake pockets – her hand moves to her purse instead, fumbling until she has her phone. Curling up on the sidewalk, appearing like no more than a morose drunk, she brings up her contacts.

No, not Adam. Not when she’s drunk as a skunk.

She’s answered on the second ring, Nate’s calm voice a contrast to her panic.

“She took Tina!” Her brain gets her inside and outside voice mixed up and she accidentally wails it into his sensitive ears, “Research man, please figure out what the _fuck_ she is so I can kick her ass.” Hanging up so she can use both hands to stagger up, she pats the dirt off her butt.

Fuck that lady, that was _her_ coworker and she couldn’t have her.

The default ringtone chimes up from her pocket and she answers it with an irritated ‘Yes?’

“Lauren, where are you?”

Well, Adam sounds displeased.

“I am-” she pauses, “-right off the corner of Wentworth and-” she laughs, “-and _Adam_ , what are the chances of-”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, I’m human,” she laughs again at her own joke, seeing as how Adam won’t, and as he growls at her more like a werewolf than a vampire, Nate takes the phone. Her brain informs _her_ that she should inform _him_. “Oh, Nate! She had like pointy teeth and was kind of see-through.” Looking in the direction ghost-woman had left reveals the remnants of what looks like a fine mist, “And she leaves a trail! How convenient! Just call me when you get here-”

She turns the phone off again, ignoring the ringing because there is no way Bravo got here that fast, and follows the trail like a bloodhound.

Tina better be in one piece.

-

Unit Bravo isn’t one to stand around in stunned silence, but it comes very close to happening.

“Was that _the Detective_?” Felix sounds horribly offended, “She went drinking without us!”

Adam nearly crushes his phone to bits while looking at the GPS tracking they’d put in her phone weeks ago, “In the next town over. _**Idiot**_.” The last word is said with more raw irritation than Nate can recall ever hearing out of the stoic man in a while.

Mason is snarling and pulling on his warmest leather jacket, the strong urge to throttle the detective over-riding any sense of protectiveness he may or may not be feeling.

“On the bright side,” Felix begins, currently the only one in good spirits, “She isn’t the one who’s kidnapped this time.”

“ _Felix_.” “ **Felix**.”

-

The cool air and adrenaline make Lauren feel like she’s sobering up, but the part of her brain not devoted to following the perpetrator’s trail or playing dramatic chase music is aware that she hasn’t had nearly enough time to be anything close to that word.

A group of college students hoot and holler at her as she climbs over a tall white fence, pants catching on a jut of wood and ripping the fabric of her nicest pair of tight pants. If she wasn’t so distracted, she might be upset at the thought as a trickle of blood flows down from a surface-level scratch, a breeze nipping at the revealed skin.

She stumbles forward, that same breeze is blowing away her enemy’s trail and she hastens to follow it without tripping herself into the hydrangeas.

Before Lauren even realizes it, the trail has her entering a thick wooded area. Something feels horrible off as owls hoot and a mouse chitters in the grass somewhere underneath her. Her brain can’t parse what is off, but she knows when to listen to her gut and she pauses.

Her head swivels, ears striving for the sounds of the forest, but it’s the hint of red that has her breath catching.

_What the fuck._

There’s a **garden gnome** staring at her.

It smirks, moustache lifting up into a smile, before running back into the forest. The downside currently to the supernatural is trying to figure out what’s being conjured up by her over-active imagination, and what is actually happening. Lauren errs on the side of caution and goes to move slower through the forest, only to turn around and see that the mist hasn’t disappeared, so much as it’s now blending in with the rest of the fog that now blankets the eerie forest.

Oh, _hell no_. She stomps her way through grass and brush in the direction she’d last seen it – in the direction she thinks she’d last seen it since everything is still turning a little bit, and without Tina beside her she falls flat on her face when her toe hits a small rabbit’s hole.

It doesn’t hurt, so she falters her way back up and wipes the gush of – blood? From her nose and leaves her purse on the ground before she falls even further behind. Straining to focus on her feet so she doesn’t have another intimate meeting with the dirt, she almost misses the creepy ghost lady until they’re nose-to-nose.

“Aren’t you persistent,” It looks like the ghost is trying to be pissed, but failing as she takes in the detective’s bedraggled state, “But I guess if you want-”

Lauren’s eyes finally meet Tina’s barely conscious form, covered in scratch marks that ooze thin trails of blood.

“You wanted to dance so bad, let’s _dance_.” Her fists raise up and she conveniently forgets that she has some of the worst combat scores in their small precinct.

A pale mouth thins and turns down, like Lauren has fed her a lemon.

“What did you say?”

“I-” A moment of clarity brings a flush to her face, “I, said let’s dance? I’m really glad Bravo isn’t around to hear this...”

The last bit is mumbled, and covered up by the woman shrieking.

“Fine! But if you disappoint me I’m teaching you _both_ a lesson in how to treat a lady!”

“How to treat a lady? How about not acting like a dick when you get rejected you-”

Hands like ice land on her shoulder and hips, pulling her forwards and into a dip, feet stumbling as she’s next turned into a spin.

Luckily, the supernatural creature seems to fade out her feet so that Lauren isn’t stepping all over them. Not that she doesn’t deserve it.

She can see it, the steadily creeping smirk as the ghost realizes that Lauren can’t seem to get her feet under her for long enough to keep up with the tempo, and she can’t even tell what kind of classical ballroom dance this is, let alone dance it.

But as much as Lauren is fine following someone else’s pace, she’s perfectly capable of setting her own, too.

Giving the absurdity of the situation not even a thought, she throws her arms around the spectre’s ghostly neck, shifts a leg between hers, and changes the dance to a club-like grind.

This she could do in her sleep.

“This isn’t dancing!”

“You were at a club, only fair that I-”

“ _Detective_?”

Silence.

Lauren turns and looks at Felix. Her stare slides from his slack-jaw to Nate’s confused expression, over Adam’s one of apoplectic rage that looks about ready to burst a vein, to Mason’s narrowed gaze, and landing back on Felix as a grin curls at his lips.

“Are you grinding on a dead chick?”

“Augh!” Lauren jerks away, “That is the grossest way to phrase that!”

Mason flashes forward, some kind of paper with glowing symbols slapping onto the woman’s forehead who squeals like she’s been stabbed with a hot iron.

“You – you can’t do this!” She screams, as her form seems to slowly compress on itself.

The detective takes a second to gloat silently before she stumbles over to the prone body on the ground, giving it a shake. “Tina? You okay?”

A hand lands on her shoulder.

“If my hunch is correct, she should be fine in a few hours. Are you okay, Lauren?”

She turns and sniffs, wiping the mess of blood further around her face and sends Nate reeling back like she’s slapped him. “Bitch ruined my night. Fuck her.”

Adam moves forward as Nate retreats, hand clamping onto her shoulder. “What were you thinking?”

“That I could have fun!”

“If you want to grind on a dead person, I hear Mason is available.”

The man in question grunts, but otherwise doesn’t protest Felix’s words as he lights up a smoke.

-

“She... seems fine. I think that’s a pulse?”

“Lauren, please sit down.”

Obeying, her butt hits the hard motel chair as Unit Bravo stands around – or in Mason’s case, lounges on nearby furniture. He had looked like he’d been about to lean against a _lamp_ at one point. “She’s fine, right?”

“Yes, she’ll wake up not remembering a thing.”

“Can we do that for me too?”

“No.” Adam’s voice is gruff as he glares at her. “You were lucky. That was a _Dames Blanches_ -” the pronunciation rolls off his tongue in perfect accent, “They’re not known for killing.”

“So why us in the first place?”

“You... probably turned down a request of hers.” Nate grimaces, “But they’re not normally out in the open, where did you meet her?”

“We were in the club and she wanted to dance – I think it’s called the Bridge to Abyss or something goofy like that?”

Nate groans, Felix laughs, and Adam sighs as some of the anger seems to dissipate.

“You are not doing that ever again,” he warns.

“Definitely not.” 

“We are not telling Rebecca.” Mason grits out from where he’s leaning against the bathroom doorway.

“ _Definitely_ not.”

They say something else but she's too busy falling asleep to pay attention.


End file.
